


Blessings Wait

by luway



Series: Stray Tides [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Guns, Implied Relationships, Jisung's backstory, Jisungs POV, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Pirates, Reunions, Sequel, Set Before Broken Compass, Stray Kids as pirates, Swords, Team as Family, Violence, and backstory basically, but also a little bit after, emotional is the right word, its not depressing its just kinda sad, lets call it an adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luway/pseuds/luway
Summary: Jisung doesn't know how to get home now, not when almost all he's known and loved has been torn away from him. Pulled from the ocean after the accident that would change his life forever, he finds himself in the company of two swashbuckling rogues who give him shelter and a new family when he's lost everything else.He's prepared to give up on the past, but there are some things that refuse to be forgotten, and he can only ignore his demons for so long before they begin to fight back.





	Blessings Wait

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly can't believe I wrote this? I've pretty much fallen in love with this universe at this point, and I want to say thank you to everyone else who enjoyed it as well. All your comments made me so happy to read, I wish I was better at responding to all of them aha
> 
> it's been less than a month but for some reason i feel like the writing is better for this than it was in broken compass (also it ended up a lot longer than I had initially planned so sorry for that lol)
> 
> unbeta'd as usual, happy reading!
> 
> artwork by sayuri.arts on instagram (pls give it love it's amazing)  
> [Jisung](https://www.instagram.com/p/BreC9bEgsKJ/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=1713dj1hw5j56)  
> [Jisung 2](https://www.instagram.com/p/By0RgGyAJz2/?igshid=1pakzyyedi8v7)  
> [Changbin](https://www.instagram.com/p/BuPnIO0gJcv/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=1g5o88zv8u6a3)

♚❈♚

_“Tiresome you wrestle,_

_with the pen you hold”_

 

 

Jisung remembers the day he met Lee Minho like it was yesterday.

 

Jisung had just returned from one of his first trips with his father, pulling into the familiar port and docking their ship to unload everything they had acquired in their journey. He doesn’t remember much about the day being particularly special, but he does remember walking off the plank that led down from the deck to the docks and bumping into a boy around his age.  
  
At first Jisung was annoyed, wondering which dimwit of a cabin boy had bumped into him this time. He was surprised though, when he looked up and saw a stranger of a boy dressed in clothes nothing like what any of the sailors wore on the docks. Not to mention that the boy’s face was clean, and his hair was free of the sheen that comes with sailing.  
  
“Who are you?” Jisung asked the boy, looking him up and down. He couldn't have been much older than Jisung was—it turned out he was about a year older—as he still had round cheeks very similar to Jisung’s, but with more pronounced cheekbones and a sharper nose. He wore plain clothes, and his boots were well worn, which told Jisung that the boy certainly wasn't from, and didn't work for any high ranking family.  
  
“Lee Minho, Sir.” The boy bowed clumsily after a moment of panic in his eyes at being addressed directly.  
  
And that’s their beginning.  
  
  
  
Jisung sees Minho around the village more and more, always bumping into him and watching in amusement as Minho will stumble over his words and awkwardly bow every time. He doesn’t know where Minho came from, having never seen him before that day at the docks. Though a bit of sleuthing and bribery leads him to the bakery, after a few tips from a shopkeeper and the blacksmith across the street from the bakery Minho is apparently staying in as an apprentice to Kim Hyojin.  
  
Jisung steps over the threshold of the small bakery and is assaulted by a wall of warmth that comes from the ovens in the back and the smell of sugar and freshly baked bread.  
  
He knows he’s in the right place immediately, because through a small crack between the door and the wall he can see a flushed Minho sliding a tray of dough into a large oven, covered in a sheen of sweat and with an endearing smear of flour across his cheek.  
  
At such a young age, Jisung doesn’t have the language to explain the feeling of butterflies in his stomach that comes at the sight of Minho. He asks about it when he sees his mother later that night, when he gives her the small pastry he bought when the Baker asked him if he wanted anything—not wanting to be caught staring at the mans apprentice, Jisung has accepted.  
  
“Oh that’s the beginning of love dear, you’ll feel it towards many fine young women through your life I’m sure of it.”  
  
Jisung remembers frowning, and staring down at his boots as he thinks of Minho, comparing his memory of the boy to any of the girls he met before. None of them compare, and never before had Jisung felt anything like that with them.  
  
  
  
  
Jisung tries his hardest to become Minho’s friend, and eventually—with the help of Minho’s undying curiosity to explore the docks whenever he has the chance, and Jisung’s knowledge of sailing and far off lands—he manages to get Minho to notice him.  
  
His mother asks him why he’s suddenly become so eager to help his father early in the mornings, when before he had been so against it.  
  
Jisung makes up an excuse, rather than telling his mother the truth: That Minho is often sent out to the market by the docks at the same time, and it gives the two of them a perfectly acceptable window that they can walk and talk together. If Jisung is lucky, and plays his cards right, he can pull a laugh out of Minho.  
  
  
  
Voyages grow tiresome for Jisung, who is soon fed up with his father’s constant teachings of how to buy and sell, and would rather explore. He tries to memorise everything he sees and hears, so he can tell Minho all about it when they return.  
  
He’ll stay out late, the two of them sitting with knees to their chests to fit in the thin alley between the bakery and the next building over. Minho’s eyes will grow wider as Jisung recounts his tales, and Jisung’s plans to take Minho with him come to mind once more.  
  
As they grow older their time together dwindles, as Minho’s responsibilities at the bakery become more time consuming, and Jisung’s father starts to take his lessons far more seriously. They find a way though.  
  
The last time Jisung sees Minho—at least for a very long time—is one of those times where neither of them manage to make or find a good moment  
  
Jisung's heart had soared when he saw the thin line of land on the horizon, thin clouds of smoke rising from the buildings so far away from the ship. He didn't expect to see Minho that day, but the thought of being able to see his only real friend was exciting enough as it was.  
  
It wasn't until a few weeks—right before Jisung left for his next voyage with his father—that he saw Minho standing by the docks, looking as awkward as ever as he tried to avoid all the sailors preparing the ship.  
  
"The weather is beautiful today don't you think?" Jisung holds back a giggle when he sees Minho jump at the sound of his voice right behind him.

 

“Yuh—Yes the clouds are very uh, fluffy today.”

 

Jisung knows exactly why Minho is down at the docks,  at least the official reason. Minho’s mentor Kim Hyojin has been doing business with Jisung’s father for years, far longer than either of the boys have been alive. Jisung still likes to tease Minho though, finding amusement in the way Minho will stutter and try to make it seem like he isn’t nervous to be around Jisung.

 

“One day, I want to bring you with us. There’s so many places to go, and I have so many I want to show you.” Jisung says with unbound excitement, thinking of all the places he saw on their last voyage, trying not to stumble over his words as he recounts all the places that made him think of Minho while he was gone, until he notices that Minho isn’t paying attention.

 

Well, he is paying attention. Just to a different part of Jisung. The necklace he was given by a fortune teller in a city far away.

 

“It’s so pretty!” Jisung had exclaimed, making sure to only look, as he knew that many would be quick to call him a thief if he did, just because he was clearly a foreigner, and so young.

 

Strangely the man had removed it from where it hung from her ceiling with so many others. There were so many, Jisung was amazed that he knew the one Jisung was looking at before he had even mentioned it to the man.

 

“Jasmine, encased in baltic amber.” The man’s voice was smooth, and had a foreign lilt to it that was unlike anything Jisung had heard in that marketplace before. “It gives protection against negative spirits, and will keep you strong as you travel..”

 

Jisung had stared into the stone and immediately thought of Minho.

 

“—Or perhaps someone you love..?” The man continued, and the image of Minho smiling and laughing was shattered in Jisung’s mind.

 

“Wuh—what?”

 

“Take it, from a friend to a friend.” The look the man had given him, it unsettled Jisung. Not because he thought the man was untrustworthy or wishing harm upon him, more because of how sympathetic he looked, like he _needed_ Jisung to take the necklace. “Something tells me that your path will need a bit of help. I promise, it will only bring you happiness, and perhaps a miracle if the need arrives for you.”

 

Jisung had sailed home with it tucked in his shirt, right over his heart.

 

The sun glinted off the stone, even in the nighttime. It was unlike anything Jisung had seen before, even with all of his traveling with his father. He had seen amber before sure, but never had he seen a flower so perfectly encased in side, each petal in perfect condition, frozen in time, almost mid blossom.

 

The faint warmth that emit from the stone was strange, and somehow reminded him of Minho.

 

The apprentice was always cold, as his mentor Hyojin had little extra money to buy Minho new clothes or provide any form of heat to the loft Minho’s bed happened to be in.

 

Jisung knows that Minho thinks he doesn't know where he sleeps; the small space in the back of the bakery with only a rickety bed and the thinnest quilt. The heat from the ovens only lasts so long before the cold night air chases it away, and Jisung can always feel the chill that hasn't quite yet left Minho early in the morning when their hands brush—Minho’s like ice against his own.

 

After much thought, Jisung decided that it only seemed fitting for Minho to have the stone, to bring him some happiness—at least if the merchant was telling the truth.

 

So Jisung says nothing when Minho walks away, even though he can see the small stone in Minho’s hand as he rushes back to the bakery without even realizing that Jisung has—on some level—tricked him.

 

Jisung hopes that Minho might think of him while he is gone now, with something to remember Jisung by in his possession. Minho says he does, but Jisung can never be sure. He doesn't want Minho’s days to only be filled with exhausting work and the cold that will come yet again when he falls asleep at night.

 

“Ready to cast off?” His father asks him as the crew hustles around the ship, yelling orders and insults as they work.

 

 _No, never_.

 

“Yes father.”

 

Jisung sails away with a heavy feeling in his heart, an emotion so strong he thinks it might be enough to drag him down into inky depths if he were to try to swim right then. It’s not a happy feeling, but neither is it a sad one. More melancholy, as he watches the village and in turn, Minho, fade away into the mist that covers the bay every morning.

 

Somehow, Jisung feels in his gut that he won’t ever see the village horizon ever again. A thought that weighs upon him, no matter how much he tries to convince himself it's his mind playing tricks on him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It isn’t even a month into their voyage when everything goes wrong.

 

Jisung’s stomach is restless one day during breakfast, and his father finally tells him to go and lie down when he barely manages to stomach one bite of bread out of all the food on his plate. So he descends down into the cabin his father and he share, lying with his legs pulled up against his chest and staring at the wall as his stomach continues to turn, until he falls into a fitful sleep.

 

When the first explosion slams through the ship, Jisung is thrown out of his cot and down onto the floor, his head erupting in pain when it hits the hard wood with a sickening crack.

 

The floor shudders under his feet as he struggles to stand, lifting his hand to wipe away the small trickle of blood dripping down the side of his head. Other than a small cut and the makings of a major headache, Jisung thinks he should be fine as he stumbles his way out of his and his father's cabin. Dragging his boots onto his feet as fast as he can manage, and hesitating a second before grabbing his jacket. The one his father had made for him on their first voyage together—a few sizes too big so he would grow into it.

 

“ _Move!_ ” A crew member shoves him aside into the wall as he runs up the stairs, the air thick with smoke and the stench of something burning. As soon as Jisung makes it onto the deck he is assaulted with a wall of heat, his jacket soon becoming too heavy for the sudden raise in temperature.

 

Embers fill the air like dust disturbed by a gust of wind as a chunk of the mast crashes onto the deck from above, and Jisung hears crew members screaming in pain all around him as the ship burns. Almost every surface of the ship is caught in the blaze, and Jisung feels like he’s being cooked alive as he makes his way through the wreckage, panic clawing at the edges of his mind.

 

“ _Jisung!_ ”

 

His father’s voice is faint as the fire roars around Jisung, but he can hear him, and when he turns he sees his father on the upper deck, hands cupped around his mouth as he yells.

 

Jisung isn’t able to make out exactly what his father is saying, before another explosion—far larger than the first—rips right through the middle of the ship.

 

For a moment, everything is black.

 

Jisung sputters and coughs water out of his mouth when he breaks through the surface of the water, unsure of how he ended up here when he was just on the deck of the boat. His vision is blurry as he tries to regain his bearings. All around him pieces and chunks of the destroyed ship bob up and down, bubbles marring the surface of the water as some sink, disappearing into the inky black depths.

 

Along with them, Jisung makes a sickening realization: Crew members.

 

“Ah! _Hel—_!” Jisung yelps when something tugs on his leg suddenly, now truly panicking as his struggles to stay above the water soon prove to be futile, and the freezing cold waves submerge over his head.

 

Jisung’s fingers claw down the length of his calf desperately, reaching past the laces and feeling a thick rope wrapped around his ankle and caught in the buckles, a vise-like grip that is almost painful as he is dragged down at a steady rate.

 

He opens his eyes, and through the nearly pitch black water surrounding him, he can see the blurry line of the rope. Around his ankle is a knot of the shops rigging that leads down to a black mass that must be a part of the ship that broke off, and is now dragging him to the bottom.

 

As soon as the water swallows Jisung up, the world around falls into a chilling silence. Though he can still hear the faint rumble of the ship wreckage he struggles to unlace his boot and free his leg. There’s a pounding in his head as the pressure worsens, and Jisung feels as though he’s close to being crushed. His already limited field of vision grows smaller as he drifts further and deeper into the freezing cold water.

 

His fingers already feel numb as he tries to free his ankle, the coarse knot of the rope scraping against his hand painfully and catching on his fingernails. It feels useless as he struggles, unsure if he's even doing anything to loosen the knot.

 

The light of the wreckage and the sun fades away as the burning need for air in his lungs grows worse with every passing second. For one long, and absolutely terrifying moment, Jisung thinks it’s too late for him. He’s terrified that he’ll never see the sun again, never see the sky burst into a rainbow of colors as the sun dips past the horizon. Terrified of everything he might leave behind. Terrified that he’ll never see Minho again.

 

His friends face drifts into the front of his consciousness, and Jisung thinks of all the long nights he spent of telling Minho about the world, promising to take Minho with him some day.

 

In a final desperate attempt at survival, Jisung begins to thrash, kicking his leg as hard as he can. A violent wave of terror rips through him as lets out a sob, the sound swallowed up by the silence around him. Blood rushes past his ears, the sound of his heart beating drowning out all else.

 

But finally, the weight dragging him down disappears and Jisung’s right foot is finally free, toes curling when they finally hit the freezing cold water. His lungs are screaming or air as he begins to swim upwards after a moment of shocked elation, and it feels like they’re slowly filling with molten lava as he desperately swims to the surface.

 

When he takes his first breath, bursting out of the water and splashing haphazardly as his head clears, the fog that had been creeping along the edges of his blurred vision disappearing.

 

Salt burns his throat and through his lungs from inhaling water, and he swims to the closest blurry silhouette floating on the water—a chunk of the main deck that is now bobbing through the waves like a microscopic island among the wreckage. He drags as much of his body out of the water as he can manage, though his legs remain submerged so he can keep his balance on the small chunk of wood.

 

Jisung isn’t sure how long he clings to the soaked wood, his thin form shivering violently as the sun begins to sink towards the horizon, and with it, so does the temperature. Another day and they would have been waters that were much more tropical. Alas, Luck only seemed to have so much to give to Jisung today, and he watches as the remains of the ship burn in a roaring inferno, lighting up the dark evening sky.

 

He knows from stories and his own father's warnings that he won’t last much longer than an hour or so in water so cold—already he is beginning to slip out of consciousness, only roused when his makeshift raft lurches and he feels the water lapping at his cheek. Jisung fears that very soon, whether due to exhaustion or the cold, he won’t won’t be jolted awake when he slips below the surface.

 

His eyes have slipped shut yet again, when in the distance he thinks that he hears someone yelling over the sound of the ship still burning behind him. He can no longer feel the difference between the water and the air, he’s grown so cold and tired.

 

He just wants to sleep.

 

_“There!”_

 

Jisung groans when his raft begins to wobble, wondering if yet another part of the ship has fallen into the water to disturb the otherwise calm waters. It takes him a moment to notice that there is something happening above him, as the sound of someone yelling and the scrape of wood against rope fills his ears. There is a sudden and unfamiliar pressure on his collar and chest, and the feeling of someone dragging him up.

 

 _A strange way for death to take me_. Jisung thinks to himself a split second before his shoulder hits something solid, and he is rolled onto his back. He manages to peer through his eyelashes weakly, watching two boys—young men maybe—as one with curly hair drags another smaller boy back over the railing and onto the deck.

 

Too tired to fight back whoever has fished him out of the sea, or even open his eyes fully, Jisung can only pray that his suffering ends soon.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“ _Fuck—Jesus fuck what do we do he’s so fucking pale—_ ”

 

“ _Shush, we need to get him downstairs—and out of these clothes. It won’t get any better if he doesn’t get dry soon_.”

 

“ _Chan—His head, it’s bad. I have some thread but—_ ”

 

“ _Don’t. Not yet. We can do this_.”

 

Jisung slips in and out of consciousness, awake enough to feel someone moving him and speaking to him—-singing to him in a language he can’t understand in an accent he doesn’t recognize—in a gentle tone.

 

Jisung continues to shiver as the boys remove his clothes, all soaking wet and weighed down with salt and ash.

 

“ _Don’t worry, you’ll be okay._ ” Someone hums, and Jisung notices suddenly that he has been wrapped up in blankets, and someone is beside him, their body like a furnace beside his own that he can’t help but move towards. It reminds him of the fireplace in his own home, with a blazing fire during the nights when it grew to cold, and his mother had him sleep in front of the flames to stay warm.

 

“ _As soon as he falls asleep, or it’ll be too late…_ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, on some of the trips that could last months, Jisung wished that he could sleep through the final weeks, when food was low and everyone was irritable. His father would often toss him out of the cabin though, and leave him to make his own fun until dinner.

 

He sleeps for days, only waking up every so often to see the two unfamiliar boys who saved his life hanging over him, speaking to each other in hushed tones. Sometimes it's just one or the other, other times both, but most of the time it's the boy with black hair and dark eyes.  

 

When Jisung finally wakes up, he finds himself bundled up in blankets, barely able to wiggle his way out of them with how tightly they surround him. There's a layer of sweat covering his body from the heat the blankets produce, but Jisung notices that his fingers and toes are strangely still red with cold, and when he looks closer he sees bits of dried blood under his fingernails where he scraped them against the rope. He hadn't even noticed the pain when it happened he had been so high on adrenaline and fear.

 

He shivers when the blankets slip off of his bare shoulders, and pushes the intruding memory away as the darkness and cold begins to creep up on his mind.

 

“Oh my god—”

 

Jisung flinches as something drops to the floor with a loud hollow metal sound. Looking across the room to see the familiar face of a stranger in the doorway.

 

“Hey—Uh, hello. I’m Chan.” It’s the one with curly hair. He speaks with an odd accent, as if he’s only just started to speak Jisung’s language, and the words are strange on his tongue. He holds a hand up in surrender when Jisung leans away from him, the other holding a steaming bowl. On the floor is a mug the boy must have dropped in surprise when he saw Jisung awake.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to give you some soup. You’re cold right?”

 

“Yeah, a little.” Jisung’s throat hurts when he speaks, like flames inside of him—he must have inhaled a lot more water than he initially thought.

 

Chan’s hands are gentle against Jisung’s forehead as he checks his temperature and asks him to make a fist and stretch his fingers out, doing the same thing a few more times. Jisung doesn’t say anything as he opens and closes his hands into a fist, waiting for Chan to say something while he stares at Jisung’s fingers.

 

When it’s apparent that Jisung’s extremities are all in working order, Chan instructs Jisung to drink the soup he’s brought, the steam warming Jisung’s nose and broth filling his stomach with a comforting heat that spreads out through his body. While he eats, another boy walks in—the one with shaggy black hair and dark eyes—and looks just as surprised to see him awake and sitting up.

 

“I can clean those for you if you'd like.” Chan says in a soft voice, and Jisung glances down to where Chan is looking; his fingernails.

 

Jisung nods slowly, hating the way the blackened blood looks there after so long.

 

Chan introduces the other boy as Changbin, and explains that they found Jisung in a wreck, and asks if he remembers anything. Jisung shakes his head, watching as Chan takes a full pocket knife and scrapes the blood out from under his fingernails, hands gentle as he washes the grime away. Until Jisung’s hands are free from the ugly reminder.

 

“It’s all a blur… I remember an explosion, my—uh, the crew. Then, just—” Jisung begins to shiver again when he tries to find any memory besides the terror that had blocked everything else out at the time. He remembers cold, and fear, and a pressure all around him that made him feel small, so small.

 

Chan hesitates, glancing over at Changbin before wrapping an arm around Jisung, and Jisung finds himself leaning into the older boy as he takes deep breaths to calm down.

 

“Don’t worry, you’re safe now. You don’t have to think about it.” Chan comforts him.

 

“Yeah, we’ll take care of you kid.” Changbin ruffles his hair, and Jisung wonders just who these two are, to be so accepting of him within hours of really knowing him.

 

Walking out onto the deck of the ship Jisung takes a deep breath, rubbing his palms over the rough fabric of his jacket, happy to have the familiar weight on his shoulders as the wind buffets into the ships sails and across the deck.

 

“This is yours?” Jisung asks, running his hand along the smooth wood of the railing and trying not to look down at the water. He’s not ready to think about it just yet, not after what happened. His lungs still burn from the salt when he breathes, and the wound on his head stings.

 

“Yeah, it’s an old caravel model I think.” Chan says, standing at the helm of the ship. He has a hat on now, and years of instinct and scoldings from his father makes Jisung’s heart skip a beat at the sight of a pirate hat placed on top of the young man's curls. “Changbin and I kinda stole it a few months back so I’m still getting used to the steering.”

 

“I like it.” Jisung says, and even if he can’t see Chan he thinks the other boys smiles.

 

The ship is smaller than what he’s used to, with different sails—all black, with three triangular sails rather than the two giant square ones Jisung is used to—and much, much faster. It cuts through the water like a knife through butter, and the air is sweeter than Jisung remembers.

 

“Hey, you know how to sail kid?” Changbin asks, boots hitting the deck with a thump when he drops down from the rope net that leads up to the sail.

 

“H—” Jisung goes to say his name, his family name, when it hits him that he has no family name now. And the memory causes his vision to blur as tears prick his eyes. “My name’s Jisung.”

 

“Jisung, have you ever sailed before?” Chan asks, holding the wheel steady with one hand. Almost as if—

 

Almost as if he’s offering Jisung to try it out.

 

“Nuh—No. Well, I’ve held the wheel steady once or twice but never sailed really.”

 

“Would you like to?” Chan takes a step further away from the wheel, and Jisung hesitates a moment before stepping up.

 

“There you go, now just turn left, okay?”

Jisung glances between Chan and the wheel for a moment before he reaches out and grips the handles of the wheel. The dark wood is smooth under his hand, and it takes more effort than he expects it to when he tries to turn the wheel. He feels a hand on his shoulder and sees Chan take one of the handles, helping Jisung turn.

 

“A natural.” Chan says, and Jisung grins, jumping slightly when Chan places his hat on Jisung’s head, the brim falling in front of his eyes for a moment before Chan chuckles and fixes it. “Well, I guess there’s a bit more growing to do.”

 

♚❈♚

_“Until that time,_

_We all have many hardships”_

 

 

 

Jisung’s physical wounds heal faster than expected, much to the relief of Chan and Changbin, who have become something like a pair of older brothers to Jisung in the time since he woke up. Half a year and they're completely closed up and he's healthy once more. Unfortunately, they do leave scars.

 

The gash on his head healed well with the stitches, Changbin removing them a few weeks after Jisung woke up. But even after it’s fully healed his hair doesn’t quite grow back. The length of his hair mostly covers it, but Jisung can’t help but remember that it’s there whenever he sees his reflection.

 

Jisung finds himself refusing Chan’s offer to cut his hair when it comes up. The thought of his hair ending up too short and the ugly scar on the side of his head showing—even if only Chan and Changbin would see it—leaves him with a sick feeling.His discomfort seems to be more obvious than he lets on though, and one night as he and Changbin eat lunch out on the deck while Chan steers them towards the mass of land on the horizon, Changbin offers to braid Jisung’s hair.

 

The offer confuses Jisung at first.

 

“What do you mean braid?” He asks, and tries not to pout when Changbin chuckles and rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh come on, you have to know what a braid is.”

 

“I know what it is!”

 

Changbin settles down next to Jisung, both of them sitting cross legged on the deck. Out of his pocket he pulls a small leather bag, and hands it to Jisung.

 

“They’re mine, I barely pay attention to them. I thought you might like them, they’re pretty.” Changbin explains as Jisung pours the bags contents into the palm of his hands, looking down at the brightly colored beads. Each one the color of the sky and the ocean and so many other blues mixed together in the smooth stone. They really are beautiful.

 

Among them is a single metal band, the same size as the rest but with something carved into its surface by a deft hand. A detailed skull smiling up at him.

 

“Chan made that one, he wanted you to have it. I was thinking that we can braid them all into your hair.”

 

Jisung understands suddenly what Changbin is hinting at, and he feels his eyes sting as tears prickle at his eyes but don’t fall.

 

“I—I’d like that.”

 

Changbin smiles at him, and they both adjust so Changbin is behind Jisung so he can separate a lock of Jisung’s hair and begin the braid. His hands are gentle as they move, and Jisung closes his eyes to listen to the rumble of waves against the hull as the ship cuts through the water.

 

After this final port, it seems that they don't have a plan, but Jisung doesn't mind the unknown looking in front of them, not now that he has Chan and Changbin by his side.

 

The three of them grew close easily, the two becoming the older brothers that Jisung never had and him becoming someone to dote upon and tease.

 

Jisung learned that Chan and Changbin had known each other for years by the time they set sail. Chan had been taken from his home years ago by a foreign navy, acting as a cabin boy for one of the naval officers for around a year before Changbin showed up on the same boat. Much like Chan, he had been taken from his home, but unlike Chan Changbin didn’t like to talk about the experience much. Chan says that from what Changbin has told him, he doesn’t think Changbin was with his family when he was taken, and may have been separated from them for a much longer time than he let on.

 

They formed a close friendship during the years together, Chan fairly decent at Changbin and Jisung’s language from being taught by his mother a long time ago when he was a child. He was rusty for sure, but years of talking to Changbin and now Jisung had him steadily improving.

 

“Done.” Changbin announces, and Jisung jumps a bit when he realizes he fell too far into his own thoughts. He turns around, and sees Changbin holding out the compass he usually wears around his neck, which Jisung knows has a small mirror in it.

 

Right behind his ear, in his reflection he can see two small braids right beside each other in his hair, held together by the beads Changbin had given to him. One is secured by a single blue bead, while the other has both a blue and the metal bead. He finds himself smiling uncontrollably when he sees them, tugging on one of the braids and inspecting how they look.

 

“Do you like them?”

 

“They’re awesome!” Jisung lunges forwards and wraps Changbin in a tight hug. He makes Changbin do a few more throughout his hair, enjoying the small clicks he hears occasionally when the beads knock into each other. Chan laughs at him when he nearly falls over from shaking his head too vigorously.

 

Chan compliments him when he and Changbin join him up on the deck, and Jisung feels his chest swell up with pride.

 

The beads act as a sort of distraction for Jisung, when he notices them instead of his scar when he sees his reflection. It helps his confidence, as he no longer thinks of people's stares as something due to how he's suffered physically but to the beads. He’d never tell Chan and Changbin, but Jisung likes to think that with the beads he’ll always have the two of them with him now. Even if they happen to be apart.

 

Physically, Jisung heals fast, but he finds that mentally it's a much harder task to get past his trauma.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The nightmares start out small, so fleeting that Jisung sometimes doesn't even remember anything but a faint sense of dread or a thin layer of sweat on the back of his neck when he wakes up in the morning. Then they worsen.

 

Chan and Changbin don't notice until the night Jisung wakes them up, thrashing in the bed and hitting Changbin right in the face. His screams shatter the rhythmic thump of waves against the side of the ship, and when Chan finally manages to grab his arms and hold him down before he hurts himself he’s begun to cry.

 

Waking up seems to take forever for Jisung, the suffocating darkness and cold of the dreamscape bleeding away but the fear staying as he gasps for breath and sits up quickly. Fingers digging into the sheets and blankets that cover him.

 

“I—” He chokes on his words as he looks around, blinking sleep out of his vision to see Chan and Changbin both watching him with matching worry in their eyes.

 

The dream had seemed too real to not be reality to him, the memory of being dragged down into the ocean as vivid as the moments in which it occurred. The same terror coursed through him as his head began to pound from the increasing pressure, as the black mass dragged him down and the tangled rope climbed up his leg like a snake—only this time Jisung didn't get free. He watched the light of the ship drift away until there was only darkness, and the pounding of his head feeling like it was about to split open.

 

“Jisung! Hey—Hey, take deep breaths okay?”

 

Jisung looks up, and sees Chan there right in front of him. He can feel himself trembling, pulling his knees up to his chest and digging his teeth into his lower lip as he tries not to whimper. It’s too dark in the cabin, and Jisung shudders as the shadows that pool in the corners of the room seem to ripple and grow as the ship floats through the waves.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Jisung wants to tell Chan and Changbin to go back to sleep, tell them that he’ll go out on the deck and not bother them until he pulls himself together.

 

“Jisung, don’t apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong alright?” Changbin speaks softly, hand hovering over Jisung’s shoulder. “Are you okay if I hug you?”

 

Jisung thinks about it for a moment before nodding. His head is too light, he doesn’t like the feeling of not being grounded. “Yeah.”

 

Changbin wraps an arm around him and surrounds him in a hug. For a split second the pressure reminds Jisung of his nightmare, but the warmth from Changbin’s body chases the fear away and the pressure becomes comforting. Jisung leans into him and focuses on taking deep breaths,

 

Chan lights a candle on the table across the room, and Jisung sighs in relief when the shadows disappear with the flickering light, and Chan returns to the bed.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chan asks after a while, when Jisung has finally calmed down enough and he’s stopped shivering. The two beacons of heat on either side of him that come from Chan and Changbin keep the phantom cold from creeping up on him again.

 

“It was nothing…” Jisung glares at the quilt that covers him. “Just a silly dream.”

 

“Jisung.” Chan doesn’t sound angry per say, but there’s no way he’s happy. Jisung wouldn’t be either if either of them told him such a bad lie.

 

“I dreamed about—about before you found me.”

 

Chan and Changbin glance at each other. In the half year that Jisung had been with them healing, he had never mentioned anything about that night to them, and had all but avoided the conversation when it seemed to come up. Jisung just couldn't think about it, so he had suppressed it and pushed it as far back into his mind as he could.

 

It seems like it was coming back with a vengeance though.

 

Jisung’s breathing is shallow as he recounts as much of the night as he can remember to them. There's not much that's clear, most of it is feelings. Phantom pains that he knows must have been real at some point of the accident. He tells them of being dragged down, of thinking he was as good as dead before they found him.

 

They continue to hug Jisung, occasionally holding him tighter when his voice grows faint and unstable and when he begins to shiver once more.

 

“Jesus Jisung.” Is all Changbin says when he finishes. “I mean, we knew it was bad but—”

 

“Is there anything we can do?” Chan asks, his voice disguising a layer of hurt. Jisung knows Chan wishes the impossible, that he could go back and undo all of the bad things. Jisung sees it everyday that Chan wishes he had a way to make it easier for Changbin to smile and find happiness in life, for Jisung to look in the mirror without remembering what happened to him.

 

“Just this, this is okay.” Jisung says slowly, eyes already falling shut as his body relaxes. “I just don’t want to be alone.”

 

The nightmares don’t go away for a while, though Jisung gets better at hiding them—even if Chan and Changbin tell him that they don’t mind being there to comfort him. When they can sleep, Jisung is always cocooned between two warm bodies, and Chan buys a few more candles than usual so Jisung can light them if he ever feels nervous, or if the dark scares him. It’s a bit humiliating, being afraid of the dark when he’s almost sixteen, but Jisung can’t seem to get a grip on the suffocating chill that comes over him occasionally, the panic that closes up his throat and leaves him hyperventilating, his lungs spasming as if he is still unable to breathe. Trapped in that dark space, with the whole world narrowed down to that god awful pounding and the burn of salt in his lungs as he couldn’t hold his breath anymore.

 

Jisung couldn’t bring himself to bother them with his troubles. The fear remained, but he no longer lashed out in his sleep or screamed anymore. He’ll wake with a start, but other than that there’s nothing but his pounding heart and a sheen of sweat to greet him.

 

Other things get harder though.

 

Chan begins to spend entire nights at the helm keeping the boat on track as they rush to get to the next port before their provisions run out—a leak in the hull having ruined half of their rations—and they’re left with too little to survive. They can’t afford drifting anymore, and Chan is the only one who knows how to properly sail. Changbin and Jisung try their best to help him, but the best they can do is to make sure Chan eats properly and hold the wheel steady on the rare chance Chan allows himself to nap—or whenever exhaustion catches up to him.

 

Changbin is quieter. He’s worried, and that scares Jisung, who has never seen either of them so worn out and beaten down. He tries to help them in any way he can, but all he can scrounge up are a few tight smiles and laughter that really isn’t laughter at all, but an indulgent sigh.

 

Jisung’s worries grow as the shadows under Chan’s eyes and the shape of his cheekbones deepen, becoming hollow, and as Changbin stops coming into the cabin at night.

 

The end of the first year is a hard one to say the least, and definitely not something Jisung likes thinking about once they get back on track.

 

 

♚❈♚

_“What’s the worry?_

_Believe in yourself”_

 

 

 

Jisung slides down the rope that keeps _The Ninth_ lashed to the docks, no longer flinching when his boots hit the sat slick wood with a heavy thump.

 

Chan had managed to get them to the port, clearly drained of energy as he stumbled down from the helm and used Jisung for support. His eyes had been slipping shut for hours, and it killed Jisung to see Chan so beaten down and exhausted. Jisung rubbed Chan’s back as he helped him down the stairs, Chan barely awake when they reached the bed.

 

Chan’s snores filled the cabin up as soon as he fell onto the mattress—weapons, boots, and all—and snuggled up into the pillows. Jisung was careful not to wake him up as he unlaced Chan’s boots and slid them off, removing Chan’s sword and pistol before he rolled over and accidentally killed himself.

 

Changbin returned form paying the fee for docking soon after, not dead on his feet like Chan had been, but still obviously tired. So Jisung tucked them both into bed with the promise of taking care of a few purchases. With Chan and Changbin catching up on sleep though, Jisung was left to his own devices. Unsupervised for the first time in a year it seemed.

 

So obviously he goes exploring.

 

The moon is hanging in the middle of the sky, surrounded by millions of stars and constellations that light up the empty streets of the village that owns the port they've docked at.

 

It's not a merchant town like Jisung’s is—had been, the lack of merchant vessels is proof enough of that, but the small fishing boats are abundant.

 

Even The Ninth, which is technically classified as a smaller ship compared to most, dwarfed the boats that populated the docks. It’s masts reaching three times the heights of the sails some of the boats had. It’s dark wood creating a mass of shadow in the corner they had made camp in, the one no villager seemed brave enough to go near. Not after Changbin and Jisung went out to buy food and supplies for when they shipped off again and nearly gave the village a heart attack.

 

Jisung hadn't realized how much he had changed in a year until he walked past the shop windows.

 

He had shot up nearly a foot, and nearly all of the baby fat had disappeared from his body (not counting his cheeks). His hair was more unkempt, his beloved braids peeking out from dark waves—from all the sea salt in the air. His eyes looked the same to him, but there was a certain light to them now, something that he knew would make other people skittish around him. Something that said, ‘fuck with me or my family and I'll ruin you, cause I've been through too much shit for you to start anything’. Or at least something like that.

 

Jisung felt people staring as he and Changbin walked through town, noticed how anyone who made eye contact quickly shrunk away. Needless to say, Jisung isn’t expecting any trouble from the townsfolk.

 

It’s strange seeing a village so much like his own had been, except here Jisung can’t run through the streets and have every corner and street molded into his brain, as familiar as the back of his hand. If he closes his eyes maybe he can pretend, but when he tries, a torrent of emotions he’s tried his best to drown are dredged up, and Jisung has to rub his eyes before tears spill. He’s been creating a dam since he was pulled from the water, anything he could use to create a barrier in his mind to keep all of his sadness and grief from bubbling up and dragging him down into them.

 

No use in missing someone he knows he’ll never be able to find again. The thought doesn’t help though.

 

For the past few nights, Jisung has ended up in front of the villages bakery, staring into unfamiliar windows and allowing his mind to warp them into something familiar, trying to ignore his reflection and try to remember what Minho looked like when Jisung would catch sight of him through the windows, see him sitting out on the front step every Sunday with a tray of pastries to sell that morning.

 

If Jisung thinks hard enough, and is careful to stay away from the wall he’s built, he thinks he can remember the sound of Minho’s laugh. The lilt in his voice, dialect from a village he never spoke about.

 

Jisung had never quite understood why, wondering how exactly Minho could choose to ignore the memories of where he came from, of the place and the people who had been his home for so long. Now though, Jisung thinks he understands, if not just a little bit. No longer the naive child he used to be, ignorant to the true meaning of _loss_.

 

It’s just easier to not remember sometimes. Though Jisung will allow himself to hold onto this one part, this one happy piece to lighten the weight over his heart.

 

Besides, even when he’s able to look past himself, it always comes back. He always ends up stares into the same dark eyes, almost hidden by the the shadow cast from the brim of Chan’s old hat—now his own. The image of someone that is both so familiar yet a complete stranger to him.

 

“ _Hey_.”

 

Someone hisses out the word behind Jisung, and Jisung on instinct unsheathes the curved dagger he had bought for himself a few ports back during their travels.

 

“Hey, you!” The voice sounds again, and this time Jisung can detect exactly where it comes from, seeing the shadow of someone at the edge of the alley—a thin boy who seems to be hugging the wall where the shadows are the darkest as he stares down at Jisung’s dagger.

 

Jisung lowers the blade, but keeps it in sight as he steps closer to the boy.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“You need to get out of here.” The boy hisses, his voice hard to hear. Jisung’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he watches the boy’s was flicker around, as if he's scared of being watched.

 

“No. Who are you?”

 

“That doesn't matter right now, you need to get out of here—”

 

Jisung lunges and drags the boy out of the shadows, the boy stumbling as he falls forwards into the moonlight. Jisung’s grip on his shirt and the point of his dagger pressing against his neck threateningly keeps the boy from running away.

 

“What do you mean? And I won't ask again, who are you?” Jisung speaks through his teeth, jaw clenched as he stares the boy down.

 

Jisung tries not to let sympathy take over him when he sees the scab of a badly split lip and a bruise in the faint shape of a large hand print on the boys cheek. He's a few inches shorter than Jisung, nearly bone thin, and his hair hangs in his eyes—a dull red color. His grip is weak on Jisung's wrist as he tries to get away from him.

 

“Thuh—The town sent a message, saying pirates were here—your ship. They're coming for you and your crew, tonight. They think you’re criminals.”

 

“How do I know I can trust you? You could lying, how would you even know something like that?” Jisung presses the dagger closer and the boy makes a sound between a whimper and a hiss.

 

“I work at the docks! My master owns the whole port, I heard him saying so himself. Please, trust me they'll be here soon!”

 

The boys eyes are wide and pleading, his lips pressed together—to keep them from trembling Jisung figures. He looks like one of the puppies Jisung used to have, the ones his father bred for hunting and to sell when Jisung was very young. And Jisung is almost ashamed to say a night of remembering and reminiscing has left him soft, sympathetic to the boy he's caught. He curses himself as he slides the dagger back into the sheath hidden in his boot.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Kih—Kim Seungmin.”

 

“You're sure they're coming tonight?”

 

“Yes.” Seungmin says, his voice breathy yet steady. “I’m sure.”

 

Jisung releases his hold on the boys shirt. “How long until they get here—?”

 

A faint rumbling fills the air, and Seungmin goes white as a sheet, the two of them making eye contact for a split second of mutual fear when Jisung realizes.

 

“We’re out of time.” Seungmin voices his fears, and Jisung shakes his head, grabbing Seungmin’s arm.

“Not yet we’re not. How fast can you run?”

 

They sprint through the streets, Seungmin struggling to keep up—his body far weaker than Jisungs—as Jisung turns corners on a dime.

 

Jisung’s not sure why Seungmin is following him so willingly, or why he bothered to warn him in the first place, but he’s also not sure why he’s decided to take Seungmin along with him either, so he doesn’t question the sound of the boys heavy footfalls behind him.

 

“Untether the ship, quick—Changbin! Chan!” Jisung instructs Seungmin and yells for his crew as he jumps across to the rail, his chest hitting it with a painful thump before he’s dragging himself up. He can see the faint glow of torches coming from the town as he struggles to untie the sails, watching the thick black canvas unfurl like shadows, creating a hole in the night sky as they block the stars and the moon.

 

“What the fuck Jisung?” Jisung turns to see Changbin in the doorway that leads below deck, confused then on guard when he sees the desperate heave of Jisung’s shoulders and the fear in his eye.

 

“Townspeople—Coming for us—No time—” Jisung gasps, running to find Seungmin just finishing up untying the knot that had kept the ship from drifting away. The rope slides into the water as the ship begins to drift and Jisung holds his hand out.

 

Seungmin stares at it, eyes wide as they flicker between the widening gap, then back at the slowly growing light, the sound of angry yells and the glint of guns coming to view as the villagers finally reach the port.

 

“ _There!"_

 

“Seungmin, _jump_!”

 

Less than an hour of knowing the boy, and Jisung knew deep down that he couldn’t leave him here. Not when the villagers would surely tear him apart, blaming him for their escape, and where countless other bruises would be added to his face only to fade and be replaced by more by whatever cruelty he would face.

 

“Now!” Jisung yells, desperate. Watching Seungmin hesitate before jumping, grabbing onto Jisung’s wrist and hitting the side of the ship with a hollow thunk.

 

Jisung grips Seungmin’s thin wrists with both hands, watching as Seungmin struggles to get his footing on the side of the ship, slick with salt water.

 

He’s just beginning to drag Seungmin up and over the railing when a flurry of gunshots fill the air, and Seungmin lets out a high pitched scream, his grip on Jisung’s wrist faltering for a moment. He doesn’t seem hurt, just spooked, but Jisung is having a hard time regain his footing on the deck after almost being dragged over.

 

“Hold on!” A voice calls out from behind him, and out of the corner of his eye Jisung sees an arm much stronger than his own reach past and grab Seungmin, dragging him on board by the arm. “Gotcha.”

 

“Chan.” Jisung sighs in relief, but it’s short lived when another round of shots rights out, and Jisung sees the sails quiver as they’re hit with poorly aimed bullets.

 

Chan gives a tight lipped smile in Jisung’s direction before fitting his hat on. He takes two steps a time up the stairs as he rushes to the upper deck, putting his entire body weight into the wheel as he struggles to turn them towards the channel that will lead them away.

 

“All of you, stay low, they won’t be able to hit you if you don’t make a target of yourself.” Changbin calls out, and Jisung glances over to see him struggling to open up the last sail, the largest one that would surely get them out safely.

 

Jisung crouches beside Seungmin, whose eyes are wide with fright.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yuh—Yeah.” Seungmin nods, and struggles to stand up. Jisung isn’t able to protest before Seungmin is rushing over to where Changbin stands, pushing past Changbin and beginning to climb the mast up to where the rope is snagged.

 

Seungmin reminds Jisung of an animal he once saw years ago, small and similar to a man but with a long tail and covered in fur. It climbed _almost_ a good as Seungmin did, and Jisung would even say they rivaled each other when it came to speed.

 

Seungmin is at the small crows nest within seconds, nimble fingers untying the rope and ducking when the canvas sail is blown open by a violent gust of wind that causes the entire ship to lurch forwards, moving twice as fast away from the chaos back at the docks.

 

“What the fuck was that.” Chan finally asks when the village is barely a sliver of land on the horizon, watching in something close to awe as Seungmin slides down the mast, stumbling a bit on his landing.

 

“I don't even know.” Jisung shrugs, pushing his hair out of his eyes and releasing a long sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders as he tells himself they’re safe now. “I was out for a walk, and _he_ showed up telling me they were coming. I nearly didn’t believe him.”

 

Seungmin shifts under their stares when all of them look at him. He appears unsure of who to look at, eyes flickering between the three of them nervously.

 

Chan walks forwards, and Seungmin stills, all fidgeting coming to a halt as he stares a hole into the deck between Chan’s boots.

 

“What’s your name?” Chan asks, his accent thick as he stares Seungmin down, hands on his hips.

 

If Jisung didn’t know him, he might’ve been terrified as well. Chan was a force to be reckoned with when he wore his pitch black coat and hat, not to mention the silver bar going through his ear and the slash in his eyebrow—both made him quite intimidating, so much so that Jisung had been a bit scared of him too when he first met him, until he realized Chan is a too soft for his own good.

 

“Kim Seungmin, Sir.”

 

“Well, Kim Seungmin. On behalf of my crew and my ship, I want to say thank you for saving us.” Chan holds his hand, face breaking out into a kind smile when Seungmin looks up, surprised. “You’re welcome to stay here, with us. If you’d like to.”

 

“I think I’d like that.” Seungmin whispers, a light in his eyes that Jisung doesn’t remember seeing before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jisung doesn’t like to say Chan likes picking up strays, but that’s exactly what he says, and whenever he brings it up to tease Chan about it, everyone else agrees with him.

 

Over the course of yet another year their crew grows from their meager three to five, and then six, then seven then eight.

 

Seungmin acclimates to life at sea easily, his bruises fading and split lip healing into the smallest of scars that disappears as soon as he smiles. Something he does often now, _especially_ since they picked up Jeongin—and eventually Hyunin as well.

 

To the surprise of them all, Changbin is the one to show up with the small boy, barely thirteen at the time and completely swallowed up by the jacket he was wearing when Changbin brought him on board.

 

Changbin’s own jacket to be precise.

 

Changbin had just been returning to the ship with some food when he saw Jeongin being chewed out by an innkeeper, being accused of stealing and close to tears as the old woman threatened to bring him to the gallows if he didn’t apologize for a crime he hadn’t committed.

 

It seems like no one can resist Jeongin’s charms, and Jisung hopes to all that is good in the world that Jeongin never learns how to use his dimples against them all.

 

Jisung and Changbin move out of the bed when Woojin arrives with an injured leg, one that Changbin spends hours trying to set it properly but is only able to do so much to help. Woojin ends up with a slight limp, but he’s always ready to cheer Changbin up when the quiet boy looks guilty about it.

 

He never says it, but Jisung can always hear the silent ‘ _I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t helped me_ ’ in Woojin’s voice when he jokes about it.

 

Chan quickly realizes that with their growing crew, they’ll need a lot more food, and whatever money and goods that had come with The Ninth when he and Changbin started out began to dwindle after two years of spending and not thinking to replenish it.

 

It’s how they find Felix.

 

It’s kind of mess, the first time they pillage a ship, but somehow Jisung, Chan, Seungmin, and Changbin manage to take it without too much violence.

 

They find enough money to buy them their next set of meals when they dock again, and somehow end up with a thin boy who speaks in the same dialect as Chan along with the riches.

 

Felix grows more outspoken as he becomes more accustomed to the language, having been stolen from his home much like Chan was, and sold to work on a ship full of foreigners. He says it’s been happening a lot lately, young men being stolen from their homes in massive numbers. Felix says that nearly his entire village population was cut in half by the amount of men they had taken. They were supposed to only be working for the Navy, but one boy among hundreds isn’t missed, so they’re often sold for a pretty coin and forgotten about. A half-assed letter of condolence sent to their family, and that’s it.

 

It’s awful to hear, and Jisung knows it hits both Chan and Changbin hard to hear what happened to them is happening to so many others, and that even if they managed to escape there are others still stuck with no escape.

 

Hyunjin is the last to join them, when Woojin and Jeongin go out shopping one day.

 

Woojin says he just showed up with Jeongin out of no where when the younger boy disappeared for a while, and Jeongin had convinced Woojin to bring Hyunjin back to the ship.  

 

Jisung would like to think that with how big Jeongin managed to make his eyes and how violently his lip trembled when he literally begged Chan and Jisung to ‘let him keep Hyunjin’ that he would be a bit more inclined to showing the boy some kindness when Hyunjin chased him around the ship looking for kisses. Unfortunately, they only found out exactly how loud Jeongin could scream, wen Seungmin and Hyunjin cornered him for the first time and kept him trapped for nearly a full day just hugging him until he looked like a dejected puppy in their arms.

 

Hyunjin is sweet enough on his own, but he only realizes how mischievous the pretty boy can be when he somehow convinces Jisung to go with him into town and get their ears pierced.

 

Of course, it’s painful as hell, but Jisung can’t resist the silver band the woman offers to him. He’ll never forget the look on Chan’s face when he walked on board with his lip pierced.

 

_It was soo worth it._

 

Their ragtag bunch slowly becomes less of a crew and more of a family, Jisung realizes. Even if there’s a small part of his heart that has yet to be healed over, even after so many years. It’s just one of those things he supposes.

 

He sleeps in the bay window sill, watching the water far down below when he can’t sleep, the cold glass against his hand reminding him of something he isn’t even sure was reality now.

 

Nightmares are long gone, but without them comes a new fear, that one day the cold window pane will be that and only that, and the faded memories in his head will disappear until there’s nothing left of what had kept him going in the times when he couldn’t think of anything else.

 

 

♚❈♚

“ _Blessings wait for you,_

_For you”_

 

 

 

“Take the captain's cabin, I’m gonna go and see if the crew has anything.” Seungmin says when he passes by Jisung, patting him on the shoulder before he disappears up the stairs and onto the deck where it’s beginning to rain.

 

Jisung hates these nights. They’re usually the ones when the nightmares come back, if only for a little while.

 

The familiar layout of the ship is unsettling, especially when Jisung knows he could probably walk through with his eyes closed and know exactly where he was even if he had never been on the ship before in his life.

 

The similarity of his father’s old ship and this one though, is uncanny. Opening the door to the captains cabin, Jisung has to hold his breath and suppress the shudder that runs through his body at the sight.

 

He tries to ignore it, to rip the drawers out and take whatever had some kind of value to it as fast as he can. They had gotten pretty lucky with this ship, Jisung’s pockets filled with the coins Seungmin couldn’t fit into his pack, and a box of spices—worth something close to a fortune—already on its way to The Ninth.

 

Jisung nearly runs out of the cabin when he’s finished ransacking it, shoving a pearl necklace into his pocket as he climbs up the stairs in a hurry.

 

The deck is slick with the steady rain that has begun, a mass of clouds covering the ship but clear skies about a mile out in every direction.

 

It’s an odd sight to see, but Jisung loves things like that—the kind of things you could only find in a place like this. Six years and it’s still not boring to him.

 

“Find anything good?” Chan asks when Jisung reaches him, expression cold and much angrier than it usually is when it comes to these things.

 

It’s not a secret that Chan doesn’t necessarily like these nights—when they cross paths with a ship and are running so low on funds they have no choice but to go after it—but he never looks as pissed off as he does right now.

 

“Same old same old, you saw—?”

 

“The spices? Yeah. That should hold us for a while.” Chan nods, and Jisung frowns when he sees a shadow pass over Chan’s face, wondering what exactly has his captain so shaken.

 

“You okay? I can take over if you don’t feel up to it—” Jisung offers, keeping his expression neutral.

 

The ship is an English one, so the crew won’t be able to understand him anyways, but it’s always good to keep as many layers of defense as you can when it comes to this kind of stuff.

 

“It’s not that.” Chan shakes his head, letting out a long sigh before holding something up. “Seungmin found this necklace on a crew member, but—He turned out to be one of _them_.”

 

 _Them_. Jisung now realizes why Chan looks so pissed off, yet sad at the same time. The kids stolen from their homes.

 

Jisung knows how much it hurts Chan to think about it, and it also explains why the crew seems to have been beaten a bit more than usual. because Chan gets sad, but Changbin gets _angry_ when it comes to these things.

 

“Shit… Who—”

 

Jisung glances down at the necklace Chan held up, and does a double take.

 

_It can't be._

 

It’s the stone. Jisung remembers receiving it like it was yesterday; ‘ _Jasmine, encased in Baltic amber. It gives protection against negative spirits, and will keep you strong as you travel_ ’. He remembers the last time he saw it, and who he left it with. Who it belonged—Who it _belongs_ _to_ , he corrects himself in his head. 

 

Jisung’s hands tremble when his fingers brush up against the stone, causing it to spin and glint in the moonlight. What had once been rough edges are now smooth from years of being held, oils from someone’s hand polishing and wearing it down.

 

The changes aren’t subtle to Jisung though, who has thought of the same exact necklace nearly every night for the past six years.

 

“Where did you find that.” Jisung’s voice is steady, and low, even though he was sure his voice would break as soon as he opened his mouth.

 

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, there’s millions of reasons it could be on a merchant ship thousands of miles away from where Jisung had last seen it. It could have left _His_ possession years ago. But god Jisung wants to—more than anything he’s ever wanted before—he wants to hope.

 

Jisung prepares himself, following Chan’s arm past the cord of the necklace in his grasp to the end of the line they had the crew placed into.

 

Minho isn’t what Jisung was expecting, but then again he had refused to allow himself to make expectations in the first place when the thought of ever seeing Minho again came up. He thought he would never have the chance in this lifetime.

 

But there he is. Lee Minho, in the flesh.

 

The torrent of emotions breaking past years hiding, crashing through every barrier Jisung has created, is violent. So much so that time seems to freeze.

 

Pure, unrestrained joy hits him first as the sadness melts away, and Jisung’s legs nearly give up on him when the need to be there, with Minho, comes at full force. The need to touch and hold him, to promise Minho that he’ll never leave him again. The feeling of that hole in his heart shifting, and finally, after so long of being an open wound, it began to heal itself.

 

Then right after there’s the anger, something so violent that Jisung’s vision goes worse than red. Because it’s clear to Jisung with one look that Minho is half starved, almost nothing but bones.

 

Minho's cheekbones are too prominent, even for him, and the shadows under his eyes can be seen even from where Jisung is standing so far—too far—away from him. His clothes hang off his body, and Jisung can see the small shivers that come from cold rain soaking him to the bone, and a lack of body fat to give him the warmth he needs.

 

The sight of Minho’s shoulder, badly burned and bleeding is all it takes to snap Jisung out of his stupor.

 

“Minho..?”

 

Jisung hasn’t said it in years, but the name is still a familiar feeling as it rolls off his tongue.

 

Minho’s jaw drops in shock, and Jisung is already sprinting across the deck when Minho’s eyes roll back into his head. His body slumps in on itself and Jisung isn’t able to reach him before his head hits the deck with a crack that makes Jisung’s stomach turn awfully.

 

Jisung's boots slide across the slick deck, but he doesn't even feel the impact of his knees on the wood when he falls. 

 

“Oh my god, oh _fuck_ —”

 

Jisung mutters as he pulls his jacket off, ignoring the sound of coins and other things hitting the wood as he scrambles kneel and wraps the thick fabric around Minho’s shoulders, pulling him into his arms and cradling him as gentle as he can manage.

 

He tucks Minho’s head into the curve of his neck and holds him for a moment, eyes wide in disbelief as he stares down at a familiar mop of brown hair. Running his fingers through it, cause he has to make sure this is _real_. That it isn’t some sick new nightmare his head had made up because he was so scared of forgetting.

 

“You’re safe now, I got you.” Jisung whispers, mostly to himself as he moves his arms to wrap around Minho's shoulders and below his knees, lifting him with ease.

 

It worries him, how easy it is to carry Minho when the boy is a year older than him. He shouldn’t be so light, he shouldn’t be so thin. Minho's face is almost gaunt as the moon peeks out from the clouds. It hurts Jisung’s heart to think of what must have happened for Minho to end up on this damned ship.

 

Minho's head falls back and Jisung takes a moment to carefully maneuver him so it's resting against his neck. He ignores feeling of rain dripping down his collar from Minho's hair as he stands, and he wishes looks could kill, because if they could the entire crew in front of them would be dead a hundred times over. 

 

“Burn it.” Jisung mutters when he walks past Chan, making eye contact for a split second. “Just, fucking destroy this thing.”

 

 

 

 

The questions Jisung is asked when he manages to get Minho back on The Ninth—with help from the others—are nearly overwhelming, and he can’t focus on thinking of an answer when Minho is right in front of him.

 

Jisung doesn’t dare leave his side as Felix patches him up, holding Minho when Felix needs to wrap the bandages around his abdomen when he finishes cleaning the burn on his shoulder. Jisung doesn’t want to think about the fact that he was the one to fire the cannon when they came up on the ship, but he does.

 

The rest of the crew seem to walk on eggshells around him for the rest of the night, not that Jisung cares. He drags Chan’s desk chair to the edge of the bed, and holds Minho’s hand in his own.

 

They manage to remove most of Minho’s clothes, as they’re nothing better than rags and aren't doing anything to keep him warm.

 

Chan finds an old pair of trousers and a shirt that can be loosened enough that it won’t irritate Minho’s shoulder when they need to change his bandages.

 

On some level Jisung knows he’s in shock, the way his brain has become all fuzzy on the edges once Minho is finally taken care of and nestled in.

 

The cold from Minho’s hand works like an anchor though, and Jisung occupies himself by rubbing his thumb over the bumps of Minho’s knuckles, trying to warm him up somehow.

 

 

 

“Sungie, you have to eat, please.” Changbin tries to coax him away from the bed, but it’s no use. Nearly every member of the crew has come and popped in at least once, to try and get him to step away for even a little bit. Only Woojin seems to understand that Jisung just needs to be there though, and manages to pull Changbin out of the room when he tries one last time.

 

Jisung won’t look at him, but Woojin seems to know he’s listening.

 

“We’re all worried. Whoever he is, he’s got to be really special to you. Four years and I don’t think I’ve ever heard one bit about your past... I’m starting to think that he is it for you.”

 

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, his grip on Minho’s hand tightening for a moment before he releases a long breath.

 

“I thought—I thought I’d never see him again Woo'.” Jisung finally speaks, his voice weak as he tries to keep his emotions from spilling out. “Ever since Chan and Changbin—I’ve been trying to convince myself to let go and forget about before, but I couldn’t, and now he’s _here_.”

 

 

“We understand Jisung, take your time, but please try to come down to the kitchen sometime soon.” Woojin places his hand on Jisung’s back and rubs large circles into it. The touch is a small shock to him, but it helps him relax a bit before Woojin shuts the door behind him.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Jisung knows he shouldn’t leave Minho as soon as Felix convinces him to do it. It’s been a few days, and the last time he slept was probably the day before for about half an hour before he jerked awake, hand tensing around Minho’s until his brain caught up and he was reassured that, yes, Minho was still there.

 

As soon as he left Jisung felt like today would be the day Minho woke up, but the smell of food wafting from the kitchen where Woojin was called to his empty stomach, so Jisung convinced himself that leaving for a little while wouldn’t be too bad.

 

“I’m just gonna change his bandages, I’ll let you know if anything happens.” Felix assures him as he ushers Jisung out of the cabin, clearly happy that Jisung is going to get something into his stomach.

 

Jisung has to stop himself from turning back and checking that Minho is still there with every step he takes, his healing heart aching as he clenches and releases his fists, trying to get a grip. Minho will be there when he gets back, he knows, but there’s that nagging part of his head that won’t let him believe it quite yet. Years of squashing any hopes he managed to think up is a hard thing to forget in a days time.

 

“I made your favorite.” Woojin smiles at him when Jisung stumbles in, dead on his feet as his stomach growls loudly and clenches.

 

True to his word, Woojin sets a bowl of Jisung’s favorite soup in front of him. The spices they brought from the other ship giving it a more robust smell than usual. He nearly moans out loud when he brings the edge of the bowl to his lips and takes a sip, the broth not hot enough to burn but enough for the warmth to spread through his body.

 

Jisung hopes Minho wakes up soon, so he can finally get something good in his stomach and warm up more. Even after Jisung and Felix bundled him up—Jeongin offering up one of his own quilts to add to the ones they already had—Minho remained a worrying temperature. Seungmin said it was probably because he basically had no fat on his body to trap warmth in, and the best they could do for him was to keep the quilts on him and try to keep the cabin door shut so the chill breeze outside didn’t come in.

 

Jisung goes to bring the bowl over to the sink, but Woojin reaches him first. "Nuh uh, just sit down. Rest a while.”

 

The soft lull of Woojin’s voice is soothing to Jisung’s ears, and he feels his eyes growing heavier as he tries to do as he’s told and relax. He rests his chin on the heel of his hand, eyes fluttering dangerously as he tries to stay awake.

 

“But Minho…”

 

“Will be there when you wake up, don’t worry Jisung.”

 

Jisung merely hums in half hearted agreement before he drifts off.

 

 

 

 

The wooden counter top is hard against Jisung’s cheek when he wakes up with a start, eyes snapping open to look at the small window on the wall opposite of where he fell asleep. The sun is further down in the sky, and the clouds from this morning have all drifted away sometime while Jisung was dead to the world.

 

 _Minho_. Jisung scrambles to his feet and rushes down the hall—keeping his pace at a walk, but still a quick one.

 

The door to the cabin is slightly ajar, and Jisung is prepared to burst through the door to make sure Minho is still there but he also doesn’t want to wake the boy up if he’s not quite ready.

 

Felix said that Minho was probably extremely sleep deprived when he fainted—how Felix could figure that out is unknown to Jisung—and it was probably a factor in why he hadn’t woken up just yet.

 

The beating of his heart skips a beat when he sees the bed, prepared to see Minho bundled up but instead—just a mess of blankets and an empty room.

 

“No,” Jisung whispers and begins to look around for Felix desperately as he swears to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 

 _It’s fine_. He tells himself. _Felix is with him, he probably woke up, that’s good._

 

The thought doesn’t manage to calm the panic slowly bubbling up in Jisung’s chest though. He knows it’s irrational, that he shouldn’t be so worried when he knows what must have happened, but there’s still that one part of his head whispering to him.

 

_It was all a dream, you’ve been working too hard and you fell asleep in the kitchens last night looking for comfort, so you dreamed up a reunion that could never really happen._

 

“ _Felix!"_  Jisung yells, wincing at the tremor of hysteria in his voice. He rushes towards the stairs up to the deck, knowing that Felix wouldn’t have brought Minho anywhere else if they did happen to leave.

 

Jisung runs right into the other boy when he reaches the deck, arms flying out to hold Felix by the biceps and stare at him with wide eyes, trying to catch his breath as he begins to hyperventilate. “Felix, where the fuck is he—?”

 

“Jisung?”

 

An uncertain voice cuts through the foggy panic that had taken refuge in Jisung’s mind, and he feels his shoulders sag when he turns and sees Minho leaning against the railing for support with Chan by his side, arm out to spot Minho if he loses balance.

 

The shadows under Minho’s eyes have faded a bit, and Jisung has to say that he looks a million times better in a clean pair of clothes and in the sunlight.

 

A small smile flits across Minho’s lips, and Jisung can tell that on some level Minho can’t believe what he’s seeing either, which makes sense. Jisung has had to convince himself that he’d never see Minho again, but Minho had probably needed no convincing, he had probably been told Jisung was dead—and they all knew the dead only return in stories.

 

Jisung notices a slight tremble in Minho’s good arm holding onto the rail, and instinct has him closing the distance between them to hold Minho up.

 

“God I’ve missed you.” Jisung whispers when he finally has Minho in his arms again, a bunch of the fabric from Minho’s shirt clenched in his fist, his other hand running through the soft strands of Minho’s hair—unkempt and shaggy from months without being properly cut. Minho is far too bony, and Jisung has to keep himself from squeezing too hard for fear of snapping Minho in half.

 

When Jisung feels the first tear fall against his neck, he allows himself to hold Minho closer, rubbing his back slowly as Chan used to do when he woke up in the middle of the night because of the nightmares. It’s a motion he recognizes comfort in, and he hopes it can do something to ease Minho and cement the idea that Minho is safe now. That Jisung won’t let anything else happen to him now.

 

 

* * *

 

Jisung doesn’t want to leave Minho, he thinks as he sets up a place for Minho to sleep. It had taken three days, Felix threatening to lock him out of the cabin, and the painful tug of hunger in his stomach to convince him to leave the first time, and the panic that had filled him when he saw the empty bed was like none other. He could admit he had gone a little crazy when he couldn’t find Minho, but the thought of losing the boy so easily—when Jisung had just had Minho’s hand in his own for the first time in years—was awful.

 

Jisung had hovered around Minho all day, not that Minho seemed to have noticed. Always a step behind him, and if he was leading Minho through the ship Jisung kept him in sight at all times. He couldn’t shake the irrational fear that if he looked away for even a second, or blinked too long, it would all become a dream and Minho would disappear.

 

“Are you comfy? Do you need another pillow? Another blanket?” Jisung fusses over Minho. The boy far too skinny and nearly gaunt after so long of being treated worse than a dog on that damned merchant ship, Jisung fears that just one blanket won’t be enough to keep Minho warm through the night. If Jisung had his way, every blanket on the ship would be for Minho, and Jisung would bundle him up.

 

He knows that Minho is a bit overwhelmed, and even though he just woke up from nearly four whole days of sleeping he must be exhausted still.

 

It takes everything in Jisung to make the walk across the room and to not look back at Minho every few moments as everyone else prepares for bed.

 

The rest of the guys seemed to warm up to Minho easily—none of them unused to having someone new adopted into their family.

 

Jisung drifts into an uneasy sleep, weak assurances that Minho is comfortable enough flitting through his mind as he tries to stay asleep. Something he nearly manages, until he hears a small bump in the night and he opens his eyes to see the cabin has fallen deeper into shadow, and looks over to see Minho standing at the door removing his boots. Trying his best to be quiet.

 

“Do you… Want to sleep over here?” Jisung asks hesitantly, playing with the silver band in his lip nervously as he pats the space next to him. The soft sound of his hand against the cushion sounds so loud in the otherwise silent room, especially as he waits for Minho to answer.

 

“You won’t mind?”

 

 _No, never. Not when it’s you._  Jisung thinks to himself and moves over so Minho can climb up into the nook, his body fitting up beside Jisung’s like a puzzle piece falling into place, and Jisung is happy when he realizes that Minho doesn’t feel abnormally cold next to him like he had earlier. He’s already appearing to be happier and healthier, especially with a good meal and a few days of sleep in him.

 

Jisung drags the quilt out from where it had been shoved into the corner of the window and pulls it over their shoulders, leaning into Minho’s chest a little, and trying not to blush when Minho wraps his arm around Jisung under the blanket.

 

The moonlight shining in on Minho’s face makes him look close to ethereal, as cheesy as it might sound, and Jisung feels a muted rush of happiness come over him.

 

“You okay?” Jisung whispers, the corner of his lips twitching upwards when Minho rests his cheek on his head.

 

“Mhm, perfect.” Minho’s voice rumbles in his chest, and Jisung sighs in relief. He shifts one last time, resting his arm across Minho’s stomach and allowing himself to lean on Minho’s shoulder before he falls asleep faster than he has in years, drifting away to the faint scent of cinnamon and sweet warmth, with an underlying tang of salt.

 

Jisung is almost able to convince himself he isn’t head over heels in love with Minho after so many years, but then he hears Minho laugh out loud for the first time in forever, and sees him smile, finding his place in Jisung’s life once more, and Jisung can’t deny his feelings.

 

Not to mention the day Minho runs up to him without a shirt, leaving Jisung speechless and bright red as he tries not to stare.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I bet you ten silver coins they’re kissing before the month is up.”

 

“You’re on aussie boy.”

 

Jisung walks past Hyunjin and Felix, confused as to why the two of them seem to be avoiding his gaze as they sweep the deck.

 

“What’re you two up to?” Jisung asks, suspicious.

 

“Oh _nothing_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this will be the end of the series, I don't really want to leave it so soon but who knows? if y'all want to see anything special from other members let me know and I'll definitely think about writing more
> 
> PLEASE subscribe/bookmark the series as I will be posting some small one shots in the future (sometime when my classes end) of some shenanigans that occur on The Ninth 
> 
> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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